


whenever you're in trouble, won't you

by happyberry



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Daddy Kink, Glove Kink, Group Sex, M/M, Polyamory, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8842399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyberry/pseuds/happyberry
Summary: The great cross country fuckfest of our times.[A collection of various OT4 pairing oneshots based in canon and AUs.]





	1. a nondescript hotel room // prompto/ignis

**Author's Note:**

> warnings/kinks/pairings/spoilers, etc. specific to each oneshot will be in the notes before each chapter for clarity. some of this stuff is going to have plot and some of it is going to be pure pwp. if, for some reason, you want to request something you're more than welcome to do so, it'll just depend on if i have the time/interest in writing it! this collection is specifically for ot4 related pairings only, and the pairings featured will be added as we go (you can expect everything up to and including all of them together, though). let's give these boys a good time, they've more than earned it. on with the idea that started this whole mess.
> 
> [prompto/ignis, glove kink, daddy kink, D/s undertones, face fucking, facial. canon/no spoilers.]

Here’s where it happens for the first time: against the wall in a hotel room with the door closed and locked—tight—with Prompto already half-naked and flush-faced, his whole body on fire, the room hot with trapped body heat, and Ignis’ gloved hand on the side of his thigh.

“What do you need me to do?” Ignis asks, and _that’s_ par for the course, Prompto needs to _ask_ for it, yeah, of course he does, because he’s fucking the one guy out of all of them who cares about things like that. Figures.

See, Prompto already knows he likes begging for it, asking permission to get fucked into.

He knows he likes it when Ignis still has most of his clothes on, likes the off-kilter feeling of the whole thing, the way Ignis holds him back from the edge he’s constantly skirting in his daily life.

What he doesn’t know is, “I need, I need to get fucked, _daddy_.”

Yeah, alright, so it’s not like he’s never thought it before in the shower, never had a half-baked dream about it, but he didn’t know he had it locked and loaded and _ready_. He didn’t know Ignis would freeze in place for half a second and then grip his thigh harder, in a way that makes Prompto hope it hurts for days afterward.

“Is that right?” Ignis cocks an eyebrow and all Prompto’s thoughts of apologizing, of saying _sorry I don’t know why I said that_ with a nervous laugh, disappear in an instant.

There’s a faint flush on Ignis’ face and Prompto _grins_.

“Yeah, I,” he falters for a second, struck for a moment by the situation, by the fact that his cock is so hard he can feel the thrum of his pulse all through his body. “I’ve been waiting for it all day and I-I was a good—a good boy.”

Ignis hums at that, slides his hand up Prompto’s thigh and towards his ass and Prompto _whines_ just as Ignis takes his hand away.

“Get finished undressing,” Ignis says, voice hard and pupils blown and Prompto’s never seen him like this so early.

They haven’t even _done_ anything yet.

But, whatever. Prompto kicks off his errant sock and rolls down the waistband of his briefs without hesitation, tongue caught between his teeth.

He has them halfway down his thighs before Ignis stops him and takes them off the rest of the way himself. Prompto breathes out shakily at the feeling of Ignis’ gloved hands on his legs, soft leather against his skin.

It’s an exercise in restraint to keep himself from touching his cock, which is now hard against his freckled stomach but, then, everything with Ignis is an exercise in restraint.

Prompto would think it was the guy’s middle name if he didn’t know for a fact—

“Listen to me,” Ignis says, pushing his knee between Prompto’s legs, smooth fabric of his suit against bare skin. He’s always doing this, causing Prompto to snap to attention in a way no one else quite can. “I’m the one who decides when you’ve been good.”

“A good _boy_ ,” Prompto corrects, shiver up his spine kind of feeling when Ignis puts a hand on his hip, heavy and possessive. “It’s okay if I wanna be a good boy for you, yeah, daddy?” He tests it out a second time, _does this sound alright to you_ , and again Ignis’ grip on him tightens. He can only imagine his reaction once they’re actually fucking.

He watches Ignis swallow, a pretty visual, and then nod. “You’ll certainly have to be a good boy if you want me to fuck you, Prompto.”

“Okay, okay, I can do that,” Prompto says and he’s not even worried about anyone hearing him, kind of wants for it to happen. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Anything.”

“Mm, alright.” Ignis’ free hand trails up his arm and to his shoulder. “Then get on your knees and suck my cock.”

It’s just a slight push to his shoulder and a loosening of the grip on his knee and Prompto falls into position easily, naturally. He could do this in his sleep.

It’s not like Ignis to palm himself through his clothes, not even as he unzips his pants (Prompto’s been told before that they’re trousers but fuck if he’s going to actually call them that), and not as he pushes them and his boxer briefs down his thighs.

Prompto sighs at the sight, heat like coals catching fire in his stomach, sparking to life as he opens his mouth for the head of Ignis’ dick, one of Ignis’ hands brushing over his cheek and into his hair, pushing his face forward.

Ignis’ dick is comfortably heavy on Prompto’s tongue. He always finds himself thinking, stupidly, _just right_ , as he hollows his cheeks and lets his eyelids flutter closed. He has one hand around the back of Ignis’ knee and the other around the base of his cock. He trusts him implicitly in this situation (on his knees, eyes closed, vulnerable) and all others.

 _Just right_.

Tongue on the underside of Ignis’ dick and he takes it in halfway before easing off, pulling back, Ignis’ fingers in his hair and there it is, a breathy moan from above. Prompto has no real love for sucking dick, not this part anyway.

He could do without the burn of carpet against his bare knees, could do without the taste of it all.

What he loves is Ignis— _Ignis_ of all people—coming undone.

Prompto’s lips wet, spit slicked and nearly drooling and he breathes in through his nose before starting again, with resolve and Ignis’ fingers curling around to the base of his skull, Ignis’ thumb against the pulse of his neck, the head of Ignis’ cock between his parted lips.

Thrumming with energy and Prompto takes it all in, every part of it, but mostly the way Ignis says _please_ without actually saying it, his hips canting forward and Prompto’s name finally falling from his lips.

Okay, alright.

Throat open and relaxed as he can be, he takes Ignis in inch by inch and Ignis says, “Yes, just like that, you’re—you’re doing so well for me. Prompto, _ah_ , are you—are you ready?”

Prompto squeezes the back of Ignis’ knee, _of course, always, for you_ and Ignis’ grip on the back of his head becomes iron, the cant of his hips becomes thrusting and he fucks into Prompto’s mouth so hard it makes Prompto’s eyes water.

So hard Prompto feels dizzy and he’s making the messiest, most pathetic sounds.

He's practically whimpering.

And all along he’s thinking _what a guy_ , because Ignis is the only person who’s ever bothered to ask if he’s ready to have his face fucked.

“Prompto,” Ignis says, in a way he hasn’t yet today, his head back against the wall and his movements slowing. “Would you like me to—to come on your face?”

And Prompto squeezes again, feels Ignis’ grip loosen, his hand slide under Prompto’s jaw to push his head back, to push his mouth off Ignis’ dick with a nice, perfect little _pop_ and Prompto blinks his eyes open and smiles as Ignis comes on his face.

All hot and warm and heavy, thick stripes of white, and Prompto leans into Ignis’ gloved fingertips on his cheek, licking at his lips and reaching up to wrap his hand around Ignis’ wrist, not even complaining once, because he’s a good boy.


	2. after all and everything // noctis/gladio/ignis/prompto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [noctis/gladio/ignis/prompto, group sex/polyamory, praise kink, canon/major endgame spoilers]

Noctis settles into the tent first, just like always, and Prompto follows him right after, because some things never change.

It’s too easy and Noctis wonders if he should be allowed anything this seamless, the way he’s able to grab Prompto’s wrist and pull the two of them together, the way Prompto’s lips slot against his like they’ve never been apart, like this is just any other night they might have spent together before all this.

“Whoa, slow down there,” Prompto murmurs, sad kinda smile on his face as Noctis kisses his jaw and hooks a couple of fingers into the waistband of Prompto’s jeans. “Aren’t you forgetting something, babe?”

Noctis grins against Prompto’s skin, the side of his neck. “I don’t think so. They’ll be in here any second now.”

“Ah,” Prompto says, fingers carding through Noctis’ hair, “maybe I’m the one who forgot how they are.”

“Gladio will be making sure every ember of the fire is out,” Noctis says, leaning into Prompto’s touch. “And Ignis will be cleaning up after all of us. Putting things away.”

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees, sounding distant. “Noct—was it long for you, too?”

Noctis isn’t able to answer before they both hear the other two men approaching the tent, Ignis saying something while Gladio laughs warmly and, oh, Noctis has missed this feeling, maybe more than anything. The anticipation of something familiar, so heavy within him that he aches for it.

He swears his entire body hurts just seeing Gladio and Ignis climb into the tent, can feel his eyes watering but, _no_ , he already did that. Not again, not again.

“Starting without us?” Ignis asks, voice teasing.

“They’re always doing that,” Gladio replies and Noctis shakes from the realization of what they’re doing. He looks to Prompto, who seems similarly affected for a moment, before shooting Gladio a grin.

“What are you gonna do about it, then?” he asks and Noctis could kiss all of them, he has and he will.

Last night alive, might as well make it a good one.

“I believe we should pose that question to Noct,” Ignis says and, at that, they all look to Noctis, who swallows heavily.

They’re all in various states of undress, having started to get ready for bed, and the familiarity of is a gut punch, steals his breath away from him. Prompto’s practically holding him up, Ignis is reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Gladio radiates warmth and acceptance.

It’s just a night like any other. Nothing’s really changed.

“Gladio,” Noctis says, finally, his voice breaking halfway through the name, and Gladio accepts him with open arms.

“Alright, baby,” he says, pulling Noctis onto his lap. “I gotcha.”

Noctis opens his mouth for Gladio quickly and finds himself being kissed forcefully, Gladio’s hands slipping under his shirt to hold his hips, keep him in place. Behind them he hears Prompto make a distressed sound and he smiles against Gladio’s lips, knowing full well if he turns around that Ignis will be sucking some kind of mark onto Prompto’s skin. He knows them too well.

“Noct,” Gladio says, voice scratchy and face flushed and, Gods, Noctis had forgotten how good it felt to make him look like that. “You want me to fuck you, huh?”

Noctis nods emphatically in response, feeling at once younger than he is, than he should be. Feeling like the sun is going to rise in the morning. “Yes, yeah, I need it, and.”

“And?” Gladio is gently pushing Noctis off his lap, ignoring Ignis’ slow worship of Prompto’s hipbones and pushing through the few scant bags they keep in the tent. “What else?”

“Remember that one time in Galdin Quay?”

“Which time?” Ignis says, and Noctis looks over to him, his eyes flickering over the pretty sight of Prompto on his back, red faced and panting.

“The time I sucked your dick while Gladio fucked me.”

“Wh-where was I?” Prompto manages to breathe out.

“Still in training, probably,” Gladio says, a vial of lube in his hand as he returns to Noctis. “Is that what you want, Noct? Both of us?”

“Yeah and after—after, Prompto.” Noctis is already undoing the button of his pants, feeling one of Gladio’s hands on the small of his back. “I’ll fuck you, then. Okay?”

“Best for last,” Prompto quips, grinning brightly.

“Alright, come here,” Gladio says once Noctis has kicked his pants to the side to reveal his black boxer briefs, the outline of his strained erection visible underneath the material. “Get those off and get on your knees.”

Noctis does as he’s told, tries to remember the kind of comment he’d have made when he was more callous, more easily indifferent, and can’t. On his knees with his back to Gladio, his cock hard and exposed now—he can’t think of a single thing to say that isn’t the man’s name.

“Alright in there?” Gladio asks, pulling Noctis to him so they’re chest to back and Noctis can lean against him for a moment.

“Yeah,” Noctis says. “Just waiting to see if you can keep up with me, old man.”

“There we go,” Gladio says and Noctis can practically hear him grin, can feel it in the shape of the lips being pressed against his neck.

There’s a sudden loss, Gladio moving away from him briefly, and he’s left on his knees in the center of the tent, licking at his own lips and unable to think of anywhere else he’d rather be right now, anyone else he’d rather be with.

When Gladio returns to him with slicked fingers, Noctis is already reaching out for Ignis, arms outstretched and coming close to laughing as Prompto glares at him.

Ignis is warm against him, his oldest friend, careful as always to kiss Noctis with some sort of respect, fingers under Noctis’ chin kind of kisses.

And Gladio behind him, slick fingers on Noctis’ ass and then at his entrance. Noctis breathes in deep and then Gladio pushes one finger in and Noctis has to stop kissing Ignis for just a second. Just one second, he can’t, it’s too much, what has he gotten himself into.

It's been so  _long_.

“Noct,” Ignis says, pushing his hand up to rest against Noctis’ cheek, “you’re doing so well. You’re going to be spectacular for us.”

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees, because Ignis would never lie to him, would never tell him he’s going to do well at something if he isn’t. And there’s blonde hair in the side of Noctis’ vision, Prompto leaning his head onto Ignis’ shoulder. Noctis barely even notices the stretch of Gladio’s fingers, two of them now, even manages to push back against them.

“You’ve always been pretty Noct, but, _fuck_.” Prompto’s neck is love bitten, his lips are swollen and Noctis smiles at him as cheekily as he can, like he’s been thinking about what he looks like.

Like he even cares anymore.

“Stay with me?” he says, and Prompto nods readily, watches with hazy eyes as Noctis arches his back and leans his head to the side. “Gonna fuck me any time soon?”

“When you put it that way.” Gladio has never been particularly good at hiding his emotions during sex and this time is no different. He thrusts his fingers into Noctis one last time, curling his fingers just so, and Noctis stifles a moan in his throat. “I guess I could get started on that.”

There’s a brief moment where Noctis can’t tell where they are, can’t tell if this is a dream or not. Gladio eases his fingers out and Ignis lets Noctis put his hands on his shoulders, bracing himself against the other man. Prompto at his side, hand on Noctis’ hip, fingers pressing into Noctis’ skin and Noctis has no idea what year it is or what’s going to happen tomorrow.

All he knows is what’s happening right _now_.

Gladio lines the head of his cock up to Noctis’ entrance and, with his hands on Noctis’ hips to steady him, pushes in slowly.

Noctis breathes out sharply, hands tightening on Ignis’ shoulders and his whole body going rigid.

“Relax, relax,” and that’s Prompto, his voice so close to Noctis’ ear, and so sweet, too.

It’s all Noctis can do to concentrate on everything but Gladio fucking into him, breathing in and out and keeping his mind on the fact that there is no part of him not surrounded by the people he trusts most in this world.

“Okay?” Gladio says, softly, voice rough but caring. Noctis can feel that he’s buried deep, hips lined up with Noctis’ ass, and it’s painful—it’s been _ten years_ —but he can handle it. He _needs_ this.

“Come on, Gladio,” Noctis says, cheeky even with his face buried in the front of Ignis’ shirt. “Fuck me already.”

Gladio’s grip on his hips becomes bruising, but his movements never become harsh. He’s gentle moving back and not too forceful even when he snaps his hips forward again. Noctis rocks back against him and pants out, “Yes, that’s it, _ha_ , thank you.”

“So polite,” Ignis murmurs above him, and Prompto snickers at his shoulder, pressing a kiss there.

“S-someone, maybe, could you— _ah,_ fuck, right there is so good.” Noctis can feel his face heating as he babbles, forgot how bad he was at this part, the talking during it all. It’s just so _hard_ , his cock leaking precum onto his stomach and Gladio’s cock hitting a spot in him that makes his whole body shudder.

“Use your words, Noct,” Ignis says, even as he’s running a hand gently through Noctis’ hair. It’s Gladio’s turn to laugh, a warm sound at Noctis’ back and he can feel the vibrations of it in a weird, pleasurable way.

“Aw.” Prompto at his shoulder, turning Noctis’ face with a hand on his chin. “I know what you want, buddy, don’t worry.” He trails his other hand down and across Noctis’ stomach, to his hard cock and, Gods, Noctis is _aching_ for it.

That’s when he feels one of Gladio’s hands move from his hip and to the small of his back. Ignis moves backwards and, suddenly, Gladio is pushing him down so he’s on his hands and knees.

“Oh!” Prompto sounds genuinely surprised and more than a little let down.

Noctis lets out a similarly disappointed noise, high and in the back of his throat even as he pushes back on Gladio’s cock, not wanting the other man to stop moving.

“We did ask you what you wanted,” Ignis says, his tone apologetic as he looks down at Noctis and moves to unzip his pants. “In addition, I seem to remember you coming without the help of Prompto, last time.”

“You’re gonna do fine,” Gladio says, “just like always.”

Noctis closes his eyes, licks at his lips, and nods. “I-I can wait. I’ll be good.”

“Of course you will,” Ignis says, with entirely too much softness in his voice. His hand is on Noctis’ chin and then his fingers are pushing into his mouth.

It’s too much and not enough at the same time, like some kind of paradox. His tongue is underneath Ignis’ pointer and middle fingers, pressing up against them and relishing in the pressure, wanting _more_. Gladio’s slowed down in his rhythm and Noctis suspects that means he’s got his tongue in Prompto’s mouth which is— _okay_ , but also _not_ okay at all.

He concentrates as best he can on sweeping his tongue over and under Ignis’ fingers, on the feeling of Ignis’ other hand in his hair, on thinking, _yes, I can be good for you, finally, this time, after all and everything_.

Ignis pushes his fingers to the side of Noctis’ mouth and pulls them out against spit-slicked lips and Noctis whines, arms shaking with having to hold himself up, entirely on edge and desperate to jump off.

“Come now, Noct, don't be so greedy,” Ignis says, and Noctis thinks—he _thinks_ —that he says the other man’s name, but it’s hard to tell.

He’s painfully aware of every part of himself, of everywhere he’s being touched (Gladio’s hand on his back, Ignis’ single hand in his hair, Prompto’s fleeting touches from behind) and of everywhere he _isn’t_.

He has his eyes closed, head hanging in an attempt to gather his thoughts, counting to himself as he breathes in and out and then Ignis is saying his name, coming closer.

Noctis’ eyes snap open, he lifts his head, and Ignis is hard and exposed in front of him, front of his pants unzipped and his cock in hand.

It happens all at once then: the head of Ignis’ cock pushing against his parting lips, Gladio gripping his hips tightly once more, two hands splayed on his back and Prompto’s voice breaking the silence.

“We’ve got you, pretty boy.”

Gladio starts fucking into him again, steady and practiced, and the movement of it pushes Noctis forward, causing him to take several inches more of Ignis’ cock into his mouth all at once.

He breathes in sharply through his nose and does what he can, hollows his cheeks out and rolls his tongue against the underside of the cock in his mouth. Ignis’ hands are on his face before he can blink away the tears in his eyes, wiping them away and then saying, “Can you take it, Noct?”

And Noctis does his best to make an affirming sound in the back of his throat for Ignis to hear. Of course he can.

Ignis’ hands are soft on his cheeks and then, after pushing back through his hair, firm on the back of his head. Noctis closes his eyes.

There’s this weird, sort of desperate release he finds in being fucked into from both sides. He’s helpless and powerless, but undeniably safe, a feeling he gets nowhere else in his life but here, with these two men inside of him, with even Prompto touching him, a hand moving up and down Noctis’ spine.

Noctis has spit dripping from the sides of his mouth and Ignis is nearly down his throat when he comes. It’s all Noctis can do to swallow, heady and pushing back on Gladio as Ignis slips out of his mouth.

“Come on, Gladio,” he says as he’s pulled backwards, against Gladio’s chest once more. “For me, for me.”

Bitter taste in his mouth, but Gladio kisses him as he comes anyway, and Noctis is on fire, a spell cast on him, his insides aflame as Gladio’s hips snap reflexively just a few times more.

“Fuck,” Gladio says, against his cheek and Noctis grins.

“Just as good as you remember?”

“Better, if I may offer my opinion,” Ignis answers.

Noctis is aching, his entire body begging to let go as he pushes himself off Gladio’s cock and sets his eyes on Prompto, who is—

“Ready,” the blonde says, eyes bright and the fingers of one hand slick and sticky. “Lay down. Let me—let me take care of you, alright?”

Shaking, nodding, Noctis does what he’s told.

“So good for us,” Prompto says, straddling his lap. Prompto has always, perhaps oddly, perhaps fittingly, been the best at this part of things. He’s been making Noctis feel worthy of adoration since the day they met, and he’s still doing it now.

“So good,” he repeats, and Noctis almost cries when he reaches back and puts his hand on Noctis’ cock, lining it up with his entrance. He looks down at Noctis and smiles so brightly it’s blinding, and then he’s taking Noctis in.

“Oh fuck, oh—Prompt- _Prompto_ ,” Noctis breathes out, scrambling for something to hold onto and finding only Prompto’s thighs, skinny but solid and on both sides of him.

For a minute his world is nothing but the white spots in his vision.

It’s all warm, tight bliss as Prompto sinks down around him and keeps him steady. He thinks he feels someone’s hands in his hair, but he’s not sure who’s. He only knows that he trusts whoever it is, implicitly.

“You’re so good, Prompto, I’ve missed this—I’ve _missed_ this,” and Noctis can feel the sob rising in his throat before it even happens, his entire body flushing red with embarrassment because he never meant to tell them, how much this all means to him.

Prompto is shushing him, shaking his head as he moves his hips upwards and back down again, moving agonizingly slow. “Us too, Noct, us too. You’ve always been so p-pretty, so good. We— _I’ve_ been waiting for this. Knew you’d come back. Knew it.”

Noctis’ hands move upwards from Prompto’s thighs to tenuously hold onto his hips, and he can hardly control himself, has no idea how he has controlled himself this long, he  _can’t_ do it anymore.

He comes, with nothing but warmth around him, with the one good thing he has left in the world at his side. Four chairs around a campfire and one tent to hold them all.

When they finally fall asleep, intertwined and under the same blankets, Noctis finds himself drifting in and out of unconsciousness.

And, each time he wakes up, he thinks to himself, _Not yet, not yet_.

 _Just a little bit longer_.


End file.
